Helena in Beautiful, Flowing Cursive
by purrpickle
Summary: Alternate 2x01. Myka knows she shouldn't be the one to search H.G. Wells' study. It would be too easy for her to get engrossed, and she and Pete don't have the time. So when the doorknob rattles, it's Myka who draws her gun... H.G./Myka femslash.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **I do not own Warehouse 13 nor the characters. Also, this is number six of the six stories/one-shots I'm working on at the moment. Which is why I classify this as a one-shot-possibly-more-later-on fic. These girls are keeping me _busy_.

* * *

Aware that if she sent Pete downstairs and kept H.G. Wells' study for herself nothing would get done, Myka reluctantly volunteered to explore the lower level. Sitting in Wells' chair, looking through his papers… It would be too interesting, too engrossing. And sadly, they didn't have very long before the authorities would be alerted.

Walking down the hallway, her mind still upstairs in the study, envious of what glimpses into the psyche of one of her favorite authors Pete would see, Myka methodically started checking all the rooms and closets. Seeing nothing that seemed important enough for Wells to come back for, she hoped Pete was having more luck. Maybe she'd have to rein herself in and venture upstairs after all…

A clicking, rattling noise coming from down the hall made her pause. Unbuttoning her sidearm, Myka started creeping towards the front door, her gaze zeroing in on the doorknob that was violently shifting back and forth. Taking a deep breath, Myka drew her gun, strode forward, and threw open the door seconds after the person trying to pick the lock succeeded.

"U.S. Secret Service –!" died on her lips when a woman – the one Pete had been smiling at earlier in the tour, she realized – gasped, hands to her mouth as she jumped back.

Well, this obviously wasn't H.G. Wells. She quickly holstered her gun, clearing her throat, "I'm sorry about that."

Before she could finish, the woman was talking in a thick, flustered English accent, "Oh, I do beg your pardon. You see, I – I left my notebook behind in the rush, and I just – I need it. So I was hoping to slip in and out, right quick, and – well, bad plan now, I see."

"Not so good when put into practice?" Myka offered, crossing her arms, eyebrow raised.

The woman laughed a little, shaking her head and brushing her bangs away from her forehead, looking good naturedly chagrinned. "It certainly didn't involve having a gun aimed at me, but that's entirely my fault," she conceded, obviously recovered from some of her surprise. Smiling, she gestured behind Myka, who was still blocking the doorway, "So, may I…? If you please."

When Myka didn't respond right away, the woman took a step forward, gently pressing her hand against Myka's crossed arm. The touch was soft, fleeting, the woman's eyes dark and imploring, "Please?"

Disconcerted at the sudden feeling that she was being flirted with, Myka blinked, looked behind her, scanned the streets outside for any hint of the missing author, and looked back down at the Englishwoman. She _was _quite striking, probably harmless, and against her better judgment, Myka uncrossed her arms, "Fine. Where did you leave it?"

A beatific smile crossed the woman's face, and she grabbed Myka's hand in her own, squeezing tightly. "Oh, thank you! Thank you! I see some Americans really are quite nice."

Raising her eyebrow and lifting her chin, Myka pulled back her hand; if Pete were here, he'd probably have some inane response to that odd compliment, but she didn't know quite what to say. "Well, I imagine… Yes. We're not all bad." A little out of her element, she quickly hurried the conversation along, "So, where did you say you left it?"

The woman put a hand to her face, tucking hair behind her ear again, apparently thinking deeply. Myka took the opportunity to scan the street again. "I believe I set it down in the study. When the fracas started, I unfortunately didn't have the chance to pick it up."

"The study." Myka nodded. Of course. The place that tempted her beyond all reason. She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and held up one finger, turning away slightly. The house still was technically a place of interest, and she could _not _allow any civilians entrance. Her gaze flitted back to the woman, who had leaned her hip against the short porch wall, playing with a ring on her hand as she badly pretended to not be watching Myka.

After a couple of rings, Pete answered, "You have reached 1-800 Pete Lattimer. What can the Pete do for you?"

Myka rolled her eyes. "Hey, Pete, do me a favor and look on the…" she glanced at the woman, who quickly supplied "Side table,", "The side table. Is there a notebook on it?"

"Now, that's an odd question. You know something I don't know, Mykes? Not fair; you should share with the class."

"_No_, Pete. A woman's here who needs her notebook, and she says she left it in the study after _you _caused a 'fracas'. Her words, not mine."

"A fracas, huh? Anything like frittatas? Oh, that sounds good…" There was a pause, and Myka decided that really didn't deserve a response. "Oh-kay. One notebook, check!"

Myka let out the breath of air she hadn't been aware she'd been holding. She gave the woman a small, reassuring smile, and the woman smiled back. "Okay, good. Could you walk it down here?"

"Sure thing. Up here's a bust. Nothing that yells 'H.G. Wells wants me!'. Hey." Pete's voice suddenly grew eager, "Woman? The hot one?"

"Hot o – Pete. _Really_? Can't you be more articulate than that?"

"Ahah! You didn't say no! So it _is_."

Myka looked over at the woman, who seemed to be watching her with a slight smirk on her face. She hoped against hope that Pete's voice didn't carry that far. Thankfully, Pete's footsteps coming down the stairs saved her from having to answer. She shut her cell phone and moved over.

Strutting up, Pete held up the notebook with a flourish, a big, flirting smile on his face, "Your notebook, Madame."

"My," the woman accepted her lost item with just as flirting a smile, "If you two are the standard representation of Americans, I believe I am living in the wrong country. Thank you. I am in your debt." She inclined her head, hugging the notebook to her chest, "_Both _of you."

Myka shifted. It looked like the woman smiled more deeply at _her_ than at her partner.

"Well, reaching across the water and all that – have to keep up good relations, after all." Pete puffed out his chest.

Rolling her eyes at the obvious male posturing Pete was doing, Myka decided that there was no point in sticking around. She felt uneasy leaving the house empty, and besides… The study still called to her. "Yes, well, while you two _relate_, I'm going to take my own look around upstairs."

"Hey, I was _thorough_," Pete protested, looking back and forth between her and the woman. Focusing on the woman, he waggled his eyebrows, grinning cheekily, "I'm very, very thorough." The woman obligingly giggled; Myka, being one herself, could tell she was charmed, but not as much as her laugh projected.

"Sure." Nodding at the woman, Myka smiled faintly, "I'm glad you got your notebook back. Now, if you excuse me."

"Ah, wait, darling!" The woman called out, taking a couple of steps to stop her with a hand on her arm – Pete mouthed 'darling?' – and quickly pulled out a pen, scribbling down something into her notebook. Tearing out the page with a practiced flip of her wrist, she smiled, slipping the paper into Myka's hand. "If you're staying in London for a time, please, allow me to thank you for your help."

Staring dumbly down at the paper in her hand, Myka almost missed nodding at the woman's – _Helena_, she read, written in beautiful, flowing cursive – Helena's wink and farewell as she turned and walked away down the street.

"_Duuuuuude_," Pete rounded on her, "You just got a _booty call_. A _lesbian _booty call. A _British _lesbian booty call." He made it sound like that was even more impressive.

Myka stared at the woman's retreating back, then back down to the paper. A high blush settled onto her cheekbones, and she stuffed the paper into her trench coat pocket, determined to forget about it. She turned to head back into H.G. Wells' house.

"_Dude_," Pete said again, bumping his shoulder against hers, holding his hand up for a high five, "Way to _go_!"

"I'm sure it's not like that," Myka said diplomatically, trying to ignore him.

"Dude." Pete followed her up the stairs, shaking his head. "Just… _Dude_."

"Stop it."

"Dude."

"Stop it."

"Du – "

Myka turned around, poking him in the chest. "I _said_, stop it. This is not your male lesbian fantasy, okay? We are _not_ going to be talking about this." Huffing, she turned on her heel and entered the study, slamming the door behind her. Hopefully going through Wells' things would distract her from the confusing situation she had just gotten into.

Standing down the hallway where Myka had left him after the poke, Pete stared at the closed door. "_Dude_," he whispered, shaking his head, a giant grin spreading across his face. He was _never _going to let his partner live this down.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Stupid story ideas won't let me be... So, here's chapter 2. Hopefully you guys'll like how I'm tweaking things - because I do. XD Interestingly, I seem to love writing phone conversations, but you wouldn't know that as well as you could because I haven't posted the story that has a _major _phone call in it. :p

* * *

H.G. Wells didn't show up. Not in the next half an hour, and certainly not as she and Pete were hotfooting it out of there when they saw the approaching police cars. Poor Artie, who Myka had been speaking to at the time via Farnsworth, had barely managed to tell her where he was before the cover was slammed shut and the connection broken. Wincing at the reprimanding that was sure to come, Myka and Pete decided they'd call him back when some kind of _good _information came their way. Hopefully that would mollify him – at least a little – and soften their punishment.

Sighing, Myka sank down onto her hotel bed, running her hand through her hair. The English air seemed to be somewhat nice to it, thankfully. Tucking a wayward strand behind her ear, she stared at the crumpled piece of paper on the bedside table. She didn't know why she had kept it. It was just a piece of paper. With ink on it. If given a notebook, Myka could easily replicate it, albeit not as pretty as the original. Worrying her lower lip, she huffed and dropped back, rolling onto her side. Now almost eye level with the paper, she reached out and picked it up.

_Helena_.

Helena… Myka repeated the name in her head. There was… There was just _something _about the Englishwoman. She was stunning, of course, but there was something else. An air of… Otherworldliness. Something refined. Intriguing. Almost like she was charmingly old-fashioned. In a flirty way.

It certainly wasn't the first time a woman had flirted with Myka – if indeed Helena had been flirting. Myka didn't _really _know for sure.

Okay, but what if she had been? Did that mean Myka _shouldn_'_t _see her? No, of course not. She'd just see how the evening went and let Helena down nicely if she did something overtly –

Wait a minute. When had she _decided _she was going to see Helena?

Rolling onto her back, Myka could hear Pete giving her a verbal thumbs up and making some sort of corny crack about Myka 'gettin' some'. She snorted. Even if – if! – Helena was attracted to her, it didn't mean anything if Myka wasn't attracted back.

She couldn't believe she was actually thinking about contacting the other woman. But… She was in London, a city rich with history, and to have someone who possibly could give her an insider's view… And it _was _something else than staying in and ordering room service. Or having Pete crashing her room and pester her about her 'lesbian booty call'.

Making a split second decision – it had _nothing _to do with Helena's dark eyes and smile flashing through her mind – Myka sat up and picked up the room phone. Pushing the button for the information desk, she asked if they could give her the number for the hotel Helena had written down. In short order, she was on the line with the front desk, ignoring the slight butterflies in her stomach.

"Ah, yes, hello. I'm doing well, thank you. Yes… I was actually hoping you could transfer my call to room two oh eight? Helena. Oh, I don't know her last name, but she's expecting my call… Thank you."

Click. On the third ring, the phone was picked up. "…Yes?"

Myka's eyes grew wide. Helena's voice, disembodied, was just as elegant as she remembered it. "He – Helena? Hi. This is – "

"Oh, yes, the charming American Secret Service agent," Myka could hear the smile in Helena's voice, "I was hoping you would take me up on my offer. After all, remiss in my manners, I didn't catch your name."

"Oh. Yeah." Myka laughed quietly, "Sorry about that. Myka. My name's Myka."

"Myka…" Helena seemed to taste her name, "What a wonderful name. So, 'Agent Myka', what may I do for you?"

Myka squirmed. Honestly, she had _no _idea what she was doing. If Helena had been a man, it would be easy to flirt and suggest dinner and drinks, but Helena was certainly _not _a man. And Myka wasn't going to be flirting with her.

At her continuing silence, Helena spoke up. "Darling, may I suggest something?"

Oh, there was that 'darling' again. Myka was glad Pete wasn't in the room to see the light blush on the tips of her ears, "Sure. Please do."

"Have you already had supper?"

"Supper?"

"Yes, dear. Food. Drinks. Possibly even dessert if you're good."

Myka's almost instant response that she didn't eat sugar – Twizzlers did _not _count – died on her lips. Why deprive herself of authentic English treats? She smiled. "No, I have not."

"Splendid. Would you do me the honor of joining me?"

Myka looked at the clock. Seeing it was only about six PM, she took a breath before replying, "Sure. I'd love to. Maybe we can meet up in about an hour and a half?"

"That sounds lovely." Helena took a deep breath, "Er, darling, I hate to inconvenience you, but would you be so kind as to meet me at my hotel? I am… Not so comfortable with… Automobiles." She sounded a little embarrassed, "And I am sure there are some fine establishments within walking distance."

Tilting her head, Myka thought that was a little strange; maybe Helena had been in a car accident? "I can do that, sure."

"Then I am in your debt, once again. Hopefully I shall be able to remunerate you accordingly." Helena lowered her voice, keeping her tone light.

Okay, _that _was flirting. Pete was correct. Myka _had _been British lesbian booty called. "I… Uh..." Clearing her throat, Myka chewed on her lower lip as she searched the wall next to the bed in a vain attempt at finding something to say.

Helena laughed, her voice friendly and amused, "Have I surprised you?"

"Oh, no, I just…" Myka shook her head, putting a confidant expression on her face, "I'm just not used to someone being so bold. Used to a _woman _being so bold, really."

"Is boldness not encouraged? I would have thought with all the other advances of… Well, never mind. I apologize if I have insulted you. It was certainly not my intention to do so."

Helena sounded cautious, searching. Myka closed her eyes.

She had two options. Call off the evening and miss out on not only a potentially enjoyable evening with fine wine and food and conversation, but a needed escape from her job and a distraction from the MacPherson situation. Or continue ahead with the dinner and get all of the above, only with a female companion who would probably flirt with her. Really, when she put it that way…

"No, it's fine." Myka smiled, having apparently come to some unconscious decision that put her back on level footing.

"Oh, I'm delighted to hear that," the smile was back in Helena's voice. "Though I do promise to be on my best behavior. Now," Helena paused, her voice coming back on a couple of seconds later, "If you so graciously excuse me, I shall see you this evening? There are a couple of things I need to accomplish before you arrive to whisk me away."

Myka smirked, nodding. Realizing the other woman couldn't see her, she shook her head and smiled, "Sounds good." In one breath Helena promised her best behavior, the next said something that was undoubtedly testing the boundaries. The night certainly wasn't going to be boring.

Exchanging goodbyes, Myka stared at the phone before placing it back into the cradle, looking up and smiling to herself. She had the feeling she'd just played into Helena's hands… And she didn't really seem to care.

Jumping up from the bed, Myka pushed all thoughts of unease away. She had things to do – and that involved calling her partner, unfortunately.

When she told Pete she would be out for the evening – and if he needed her, she had her cell phone – she'd barely managed to hang up before he'd gone into a full blown triumphant British lesbian booty call fit; she'd be so happy if she _never_ had to hear or think that phrase _ever_ again. When he predictably called her back as soon as she hung-up, she let it go to voicemail. There was no sense feeding his fantasy by telling him that she was _indeed_ going to meet up with Helena. She'd keep that knowledge to herself.

She ended up having a minor crisis when she realized that she had no idea what kind of clothing she was supposed to wear. Though she hadn't thought to pack anything formal for the trip, Myka didn't want to under dress. However, knowing that if she ended up calling Helena back she'd chicken out and find some reason not to have an evening out (_not _date), Myka figured pressed black pants and a nice blue blouse with a black jacket would be able to skirt the edge of casual and semi-formal. She unfortunately did not have the luxury of being able to change if she chose wrong, but hopefully Helena would be able to change her outfit to fit Myka's.

With forty five minutes leeway, Myka was showered, dressed, put together, and ready to go meet the woman who might or might not try to get her into bed. She called the concierge to request a taxi.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Big thanks to my friend Reader458 for helping me finish this chapter. As well, you're an awesome sounding board. *smile*

* * *

Helena swung the door open before she had the chance to knock. With her hand still raised, Myka had a blank look on her face before she finally told herself to smile. "Hi," she put her hands into the pocket of her jacket, surreptitiously taking in Helena.

Wearing a long white blouse and black overcoat, black pants and boots, hair free and framing her face, longer than it had looked up in a bun, Helena smiled at her. She wore minimal makeup – if even at all – but she didn't need the artificial beauty; Myka wanted to be jealous, but couldn't muster the emotion. Looking less like a student of college or intern and more like a confident and assured gentlewoman, Myka realized that Helena was most likely older than her. She sat back on her heel. My, my, Helena was already surprising her.

The corners of Helena's mouth tugged up, and she gave Myka a knowing look. "Good evening, Myka," she took a step closer to her, closing the door and distance between them, "You look quite lovely this evening. And you are exactly on time. I am impressed."

Myka smiled, flattered. There was no reason to tell Helena that she had been sitting in the lobby for twenty minutes, attempting to read the latest Wall Street Journal. "Thank you. You look nice as well." She was relieved to see that Helena had dressed for the same kind of evening, "Did you get everything done that you wanted to?"

Helena breathed in, taking a step forward and waiting for Myka to join her as she headed for the stairs, "Oh, I did indeed." She almost seemed to be laughing at a private joke, looking sideways and giving Myka a secretive smile, "Didn't take very long at all."

"That's good." Reaching forward and pushing the door open for them, Myka fell in step behind Helena; it was only two – no, three, using the European way of numbering floors – flights down, but she didn't mind the exercise.

"Quite," Helena slowed so Myka could walk next to her, her voice echoing slightly in the stairwell, "And how about you? How was your evening?"

Myka quickly went through and tried to figure out if anything interesting had happened that would warrant sharing. She decided no, shaking her head, "It was fine. Nothing exciting happened."

Helena smiled at her, an almost impish expression sliding over her face, "Well then, we must produce some excitement of our own tonight, yes?"

Myka paused, foot stopping in midair, gravity and the smirk Helena gave her prompting her to continue downwards. "Something tells me that won't be a problem," she rolled her eyes, grinning good naturedly. Really, Helena was incorrigible. It would have been annoying if Helena was a man (Myka found constant flirters tiring, which is why she couldn't be around Pete for very long when he 'turned on the charm'), but on the other woman, she did it so elegantly Myka couldn't help but feel… Flattered.

"Ah, good. I was hoping to enjoy my first night back in London." Helena smiled, looking down, her voice turning reflective, nuanced, "I have been alone too long, it seems, so your company, however early this sentiment is, is greatly appreciated."

Helena held the lobby door open for her, smiling when Myka unconsciously brushed against her. Letting the door behind them close with a slight clang, she turned to her, "So, any designs on what you would like to eat?"

Myka shook her head. "Do you?" she asked.

Helena studied her, a slow, secretive smile sliding onto her face. Myka wondered what she had just gotten herself into.

* * *

"When you smiled like that, I was expecting something else," Myka admitted as soon as they were seated, taking a look around the room before turning back to see Helena straightening her blouse and smoothing her hair down, the removal of her coat causing some errant messiness. Feeling a little self conscious that her own jacket had left her a bit rumpled, Myka followed Helena's lead.

With one more pat to her sleeve, Helena smiled at her, one fine eyebrow raising. "Oh?" she accepted the menu the handsome waiter who had led them to their table handed her, waiting for Myka to receive her own before continuing, "I'm not quite sure I wish to inquire as to what you thought me planning."

Myka grinned. "I'm not sure you do too, either."

"Then we are in accord. I shall not ask."

"Good."

There was a pause, in which the waiter shifted and brought up his pad, "Ladies? May I start you off with something to drink?"

"Oh, right," "Yes, thank you," Myka and Helena talked over each other, Myka nodding to let Helena know she could have the table.

Helena appraised her for a couple of seconds. "Dear," she tilted her head, dark hair falling across her cheek before she smoothly slid it behind her ear, "Would you trust me to order our drinks for this evening?"

Myka blinked, but slowly nodded. She hadn't made any definite plans for what she was going to imbibe (or eat, for that matter), and she had to admit she was curious as to what her companion would suggest. She leaned forward, resting her elbows and forearms on the table, clasping her hands together, "Go right ahead."

"Excellent!" Looking inordinately pleased, Helena reached forward and patted Myka's hands, her fingers warm, touch fleeting, "I doubt you'll regret it." With one more smile, she looked up at the patiently waiting waiter, transferring her smile to him, "Excuse me, but are you in possession of some, shall we say, 'older' wines?"

The waiter smiled at Helena, "We are. Would you like me to bring you our complete wine list?"

"That is good to hear." Looking very pleased, Helena brought up her hand and started twisting her ring, "And that would be very helpful, yes. Thank you." Switching her attention back to Myka as the waiter left, a wide smile curled on her lips, "This is very exciting. To see what survived…"

Noting the odd comment but deciding not to say anything, Myka took the lull in conversation as a chance to once again gather her thoughts. In the twenty minutes it had taken Helena to find the type of restaurant she had been interested in, Myka had come to the decision she had probably been worrying too much about the evening. Helena was a lovely woman, and harmless flirting was very good for her ego.

Walking the darkening London streets, their conversation at both times tentative and confident, Myka had watched Helena taking in the city around them with an air of anticipatory caution. She had preferred to let Myka walk closer to the street, but expertly wove in and out of the people on the street, one hand flung carelessly back to grasp Myka's so she did not lose her. Watching the enigmatic woman rediscover the city she professed to have returned to had oddly seemed a bigger experience than Myka would have thought, and she had found herself quickly caught up in the excitement. And though some of that energy had dissipated with time and the acquisition of their dining table, Myka could still feel some buzzing through her body.

The waiter, appearing with wine list in hand, thankfully withdrew her from her thoughts, and Myka quickly brought herself back to focus. There was no sense in thinking things that only started to confuse her if she concentrated too hard.

Helena accepted the wine-list with a smile and a nod, expertly opening it with her thumb and going over it. Myka watched as the other woman read through it, humming and smiling periodically, sometimes pursing her lips as something obviously surprised her. Suddenly, Helena raised an eyebrow, snapping the folder closed and turning to the still waiting waiter. Handing him the menu, she all but purred out triumphantly, "We'll take the '75 bottle of Point Noufe."

His eyes widening a little (but well-trained enough that his expression, on a whole, didn't show his surprise), the waiter took back the list, writing quickly into his little notebook, "Of course. Please excuse me." With a short pause, he hurried off.

Myka stared at Helena in disbelief. "'75 Point Noufe?" she asked, trying desperately hard not to calculate just how much that particular wine would cost, "Are you sure?" An over thirty year old wine…?

Helena tilted her head, letting out a small laugh and smiling passively as she picked up her napkin to shake it out and lay it over her lap, "Yes, 'I am quite sure'. I know from experience that year is a good year, and I wish to share it with you." Studying the expression on Myka's face, she sat back and laughed again, "Oh, you are worried at the expense, darling?" Dark eyes dancing, Helena wrapped a hand around Myka's again, squeezing before letting go, "Please don't worry. I have recently come into an… inheritance of a sort – more like a 'reacquisition', you could say – and I am quite well off. I can afford to splurge once in a while."

Licking her lips, Myka mentally shook her head at herself. Truthfully, that explanation did put her more at ease. It certainly wasn't like Helena was trying to _buy _her company or affection, right?

Perhaps seeing the easing of her body language, Helena gave her one more smile and took her own perusal of the pub she had chosen; though Myka had expected something a little more exotic or abnormal due to Helena's reaction to her question about where to eat, she couldn't say she was displeased.

Medium lighting, upscale enough yet not so upscale she felt underdressed, with a mixture of current and antique atmosphere, the _Captain_'_s Board _was delightfully perfect. Also, judging by the number of people who occupied the surrounding tables and booths, it was popular.

The reappearance of the waiter (Myka finally remembered he had said his name was Thomas) with the bottle of requested wine gave her something to concentrate on than just Helena. Of course, watching the woman go through the motions of tasting the wine and approving it, Myka was once again struck at how effortlessly _elegant _the woman was. It was almost as if the ritual of choosing wine was a common occurrence. Of course, there was also something about Helena that told her she was just as home with harder spirits as well (and perhaps enjoyed those more, on occasion).

Once completely satisfied, two glasses of the rich wine poured, Thomas promising to come back soon for their food orders, Helena turned the power of a full smile towards Myka. "Well, darling?" she asked, her dark eyes twinkling, raising her own glass up to her lips. Taking a full sip, she let out a noise of appreciation, "Ahh, just as I remembered it."

Myka had to agree with Helena's appreciation. The wine was a delicious red, many complex flavors flowing over her tongue, the slightest hint of citrus rounding out the taste. She smiled widely. "This's delicious!" she exclaimed, taking another sip, blushing lightly at the satisfied look Helena gave her.

"I'm glad you approve," Helena said softly, pleased confidence making her face almost glow. Her eyes studied Myka intently, something flickering across her gaze before she looked away and started perusing her menu. Dark hair fell across her neck, but she didn't bother to push it away.

Clearing her throat quietly, Myka set the wineglass down and picked up her own menu, hoping the other woman didn't look up and see just how much her direct stare had affected her. Perhaps it was the rush of alcohol hitting her fairly empty stomach, or the experience and adventure of being in a foreign country, but Myka found herself wondering, not for the first time, how honest she'd been with herself when she prepared for that evening.


End file.
